


Grades Are Due

by writernotwaiting



Series: Just Graduated [1]
Category: Unrelated (2007)
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writernotwaiting/pseuds/writernotwaiting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Single for two years after her smarmy bastard of a husband left her for younger woman, Jean faces the prospect of another summer alone now that school’s finished — well, until a former student shows up in her office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grades Are Due

_“This is a problem not just for the United States but for the whole nation.”_

_Oh._

_Dear._

_God._

She slowly lowered her head to the desk and banged her forehead several times. “Did this child actually graduate from high school still capable of writing that sentence? _”_ She let out an audible groan. “I do not get paid enough for this.”

It was late. It was dark out, and the custodian had already been around to lock up the building, but Jean remained in her office wading through the pile of freshman composition papers littering her desk. She was, apparently, the last woman standing, or sitting, as it were. The students had all left after graduation two days ago, and her colleagues had packed up their own stacks of papers to torture themselves at home. Jean, on the other hand, knew better than to take her grading back to the apartment — there were a cat, a couch, and fuzzy blankets at home. Sleep would be much too tempting.

So here she was, 9pm, in a silent building, reading sentences almost too painful to bear.

 _“But sports have been around for thousands of years football was founded in 1800s and women haven’t been able to play any sports until recently.”_ — “Yes, of course! Because we all know 1800 was thousands of years ago. You are incapable of math, as well as putting together a coherent sentence! I have failed as a teacher.” But just as she slumped down into her chair in defeat, she heard a smug chuckle from the hallway.

“Hey, Palmer, do you always talk to yourself while you’re grading? It’s a pretty good monolog.”

She snorted, and looked up at the vision of blond curls that had poked his head into her office. “How did you get in here? I thought they’d locked up the building?”

“I was reading downstairs in the lounge. Bob said I could stay.”

“Why are you here at all, Oakley? You walked on Saturday. I figured you’d be long gone by now.” But she smiled as she said it — of course she did. No one could look at that face and not smile. _Good lord, kid, you really need to leave, because just looking at you lowers my IQ._

“Actually, I’m not in much of a hurry. I got a temp job in Dr. Ryan’s lab for the summer. I thought I would just hang around for a bit before I moved out east for grad school.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, well, it’s mostly counting dots in petri dishes and disinfecting test tubes, so it’ll be a nice, low-stress way to spend the summer.”

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you didn’t come to my graduation party?”

She spread her arms out over the papers that covered her desk. “Too much grading to do — I really couldn’t.”

Of course, that was only half true. She might make her living standing up in front of a classroom, but she was no extrovert. When she first started teaching, she was flattered to be invited to the parties when her students graduated, but now they seemed like nightmares — minefields of people she didn’t know, but who all knew her. She was not a mingler.

Oakley closed the door as he walked the rest of the way into her office and sank down into the overstuffed couch next to the desk, arms draped over the sides, legs wide.

“Hmm. It sounds like you’ve got a batch of real winners there,” he smirked, catching her eyes with his.

She answered him with a short, sarcastic bark of a laugh, “Yeah, well, some are worse than others.” She shifted her eyes back to the stacks on her desk — hopefully before her cheeks started to flush. _Crap — I am going to have to ask him to talk to me from the hallway, because I cannot look at him and pay attention to what he says at the same time._

Jean scrunched her face up with a worried look while she fiddled with the computer,“Did your folks make it out?”

“Pfft! Are you kidding? After that shouting match we got into over break? I haven’t even spoken to them since.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” She remembered that bit — he’d sported a splint for a few weeks after he punched the wall. “How’s you hand?”

He splayed out his fingers for her with a rueful smile, “almost as good as new.”

She glanced over briefly and frowned, “Is that why you’re hanging out here for the summer?”

“Among other things,” and he gave a her a look she didn’t quite know how to interpret.

She looked away once more and tried to find something else to focus on — an excuse to not look at him without being rude or looking like a moronic teenager. Eventually her eyes fell on some textbooks lying about, and she rose to put them up on the shelves, dragging a chair over so she could reach.

Oakley snorted, “You know I could help you with that.”

“What?” she twisted around to look at him.

“You don’t have to climb up on the furniture.” He was clearly amused. At 6’2”, reaching the top shelf had never been his problem.

She shrugged and smiled at him over her shoulder, “I do it all the time. Short people problems.” She stuck two books up on the top shelf, but when she turned to retrieve another, she almost ran right into him.

He handed her one of the books as she looked down at him and got caught again by his baby blues. When her hand brushed his as she took the book, she felt the contact all the way down her spine.

_Did he just lick his lips?_

She shelved the book and turned back as he handed her another one. This time she looked quite deliberately at the book, rather than his face, though that too seemed a bit dangerous, as she realized that her standing on the chair put him right at eye level with her chest. Suddenly she felt a little wobbly and just a bit tingly.

“Any more?” he asked.

She cleared her throat before she answered, “no, I think that’s it.”

She started to hop down, when he grabbed her arm, and briefly brushed her waist, to steady her. Just that little contact gave her goosebumps.

_Stop it! He’s your student! You can’t think these thoughts._

She took a bit of a breath when he let go and she retreated again to her desk, but she sensed his eyes follow her, exacerbating her self-consciousness.

He sank back down on the couch, and paused a bit before he got an odd look on his face, “you know, Palmer, I’ve been wondering if the rumors are true.”

Her eyebrow went up, “what rumors are those, Oakley?”

“Rumor has it that you have a tattoo.”

“Well that’s hardly a rumor. It’s not like I’ve kept it a secret.”

“Where is it?”

_Oh, that is a very dangerous smirk, Mr._

“Just right here” she pointed to the middle of her thigh. “Not so salacious, after all,” she smirked back.

He leaned forward conspiratorially, “Can I see it?”

Jean felt her face go hot, and she broke his gaze, trying to look annoyed, “No, I don’t think so.”

“What?” He looked all innocent, “come on. It’s not like it’s a tramp stamp.” He stood up and knelt next to her, clearly ready to hike up her skirt.

She threw him an evil look, and put her hands on her knees, “No. Besides you couldn’t see anything through the tights, anyway.” _Dammit, I’m trying so hard to be good._

“Please?” He used that puppy dog voice, but his eyes had definitely taken on a predatory look as his hand moved to the hem of her skirt.

_Bad idea bad idea bad idea._

But she pulled her skirt back, anyway, just barely enough so he could see the outline of the curled up dragon through her stockings. “There. See? Not that exciting.” Then her breath caught as he reached up to trace the image with one hand, while the other slid up her other leg and wrapped around her thigh.

“Oakley.”

“Hmmmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“You know, I’m not your student anymore, Dr. Palmer.” His hands began to wander a bit farther up her leg.

“Yeah, but I’m still almost old enough to be your mother.” She put her hand on his just before he reached his goal.

“But you’re not my mother.” He rose up on his knees and moved himself between her legs while his voice got very low and rumbly. She felt every. Syllable. Right. Between. Her. Legs.

_Jesus._

“Still a bad idea.” But she didn’t sound like she was entirely convinced anymore.

His thumb suddenly reached the place it had been aiming for, and whoosh of breath came out of her mouth. “It feels like the rest of you thinks it’s an excellent idea.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “you’re wet clean through your stockings.”

She let let out another big breath, and scrunched her eyes shut.

He leaned up close with his mouth next to her ear, “do you know how many times I could barely walk out of class because my dick was so hard?” He rubbed the side of his face against hers and she held her breath. “Your entire face lights up when you get excited about something — it’s so sexy. All I could think about was pushing you up against the board and fucking you right there in the classroom.”

“That’s, um, that would be called . . . sexual harassment . . . I’m pretty sure.” She felt him smirk against the side of her face, and her breath stuttered once more as she gripped his wrist hard.

His other hand began to travel its way up her back and into her hair where he lingered a bit before his cheek glided across hers, and he just barely tickled her lips with his own.

She didn’t move. She didn’t dare breathe. Instead she kept her eyes closed and tried hard not to think about the heat radiating between the two of them, or how her skin prickled.

His soft baritone hummed into her lips once more, “are you going to tell me to stop?” His fingers traced a feather-light line from her neck and down her shoulder until his knuckles grazed her breast. She finally opened her eyes and felt herself pinned by the intensity in his gaze. It had been almost two years since her divorce and she hadn’t so much as had a nibble since then. Everyone her own age, it seemed, was already attached, or else unattached for a really good reason. To have the attention of someone young, gorgeous, and smart? It was almost overwhelming.

Jean tried to rally her rational self one last time, her voice barely audible — “Oakley, you’re going to get me fired.”

He pulled back a few inches and got a sour look on his face. “Dr. Larson has been screwing that exchange student from China since October. Nobody’s done jack about that.”

She briefly squeezed her eyes shut again in frustration. “He’s a guy. The rules are always different for men.”

Oakley leaned forward once more, barely grazing her ear with his lips and nipping lightly with his teeth, “then I guess we had better make sure no one finds out.”

All the little hairs on her arms stood at attention. Warm, wet kisses traced a hot map from beneath her ear to the hollow of her neck as he slid his hands back over her arms, brushing across her neck, and moved down to her breasts. Raising his eyes back up to hers, he asked her one more time, “are you going to tell me to stop?”

His voice might as well have been directly attached to her sex.

“No,” came the tiniest of replies as she almost imperceptibly shook her head.

He didn’t wait for her to change her mind. His mouth assaulted hers, and his fingers worked at the buttons of her shirt until they found the warm flesh underneath. Without breaking the kiss, Oakley stood and pulled her up with him, slowly backing up until he felt his calves bump up against the thrift shop couch. He drew her after him like a magnet as he sat back down and had her straddle his lap. Only then did she come up for air.

“If this is what you want,” she breathed, “then I think you’re overdressed,” and she pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans.

He smiled up at her. “It is getting little warm in here,” he agreed, raising his arms to help her pull the shirt over his head.

_Cocky bastard!_

Jean ran her hands over broad shoulders and lean muscles, _Cocky for a reason — my lord, he’s gorgeous!_ She leaned in again to taste his mouth and rake her teeth across his lip while his whole body vibrated with the low growl he let loose.

“Speaking of overdressed . . .” He pushed her up and off his lap so he could peel off her tights and underwear then pulled her back on top of him. Once there, Jean ran her fingers along his waistband until she found the button and slowly worked the zipper so they could slide him out of his pants.

She gasped out a high pitched whimper and grabbed his shoulders when she finally felt his hard warmth against her slickness. She rocked her hips back and forth over his length, her breath coming in long, punctuated gasps as she alternately held her breath then let it out with a quiet mew, and he answered it with rumbly moans.

His mouth found her breast as she rose up just enough to place his cock perfectly at her edges, and she slowly sank down onto him. “Oh fuck” he breathed out as she took him fully inside herself. His eyes closed tight and his head fell back as he fought for control. She braced herself on his broad shoulders as she started a tortuously slow rhythm, rising up on her knees and inching back down as she let out a long sigh, trying desperately to stay as quiet as possible.

Oakley wasn’t about to make that any easier. He grabbed her hips and set a much faster pace. He began rocking into her swollen wetness much harder and faster.

Her orgasm quickly began to build at her loss of control. She clenched her teeth and scrunched her eyes tight to hold in the moans fighting at the back of her throat, clutching his shoulders for dear life.

His gaze was riveted on her face, “Oh god, Dr. Palmer, you are so fucking sexy.” He reached between them, applying just that much extra pressure to push her over the edge, and she arched her back, tensing every muscle, digging her nails into his shoulders as she tried to keep herself upright, and then he followed right after her — “shhhhhhhiiiiiiiiit!”

She let herself fall forward onto his chest, wrapping her arms around him, threading her fingers into his curls, and lazily tasting the salt on his neck.

“Oh dear lord, Oakley, what have I done?”

His long fingers slowly traced a pattern over her legs and back. “Found the perfect way to start your summer vacation, I hope.” He buried his face in her hair and inhaled. “You didn’t think this was meant to be a one off, do you?”

She sighed. “Dammit. I knew you were trouble from the first day I saw you lurking in the back of the class, you little shit.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “but you won’t be bored.”

“Yeah, but how the hell am I supposed to concentrate on grading these papers, now?”

**Author's Note:**

> The story begins, unfortunately, with quotes that are verbatim from actual student essays. It's very sad, I know.


End file.
